


Roden, House of Havanila

by brookibee4



Category: The Ascendance Trilogy - Jennifer A. Nielsen
Genre: Other, blood guts and paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 20:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookibee4/pseuds/brookibee4
Summary: Unstable peace has occupied the lands surrounding Carthya. When tragedy rocks Drylliad, nobody is safe. Will the monarchy fall into turmoil and war? Or will somebody find the courage to save it?





	Roden, House of Havanila

Captain Roden Harlowe prided himself in being able to take a blow. He’d done it for years. Always standing tall before a foe and when faced with a potential threat.

But now as he stood before his friend and king, Jaron Artolius Eckbert III, Roden longed for the control he held while in the throes of war. 

It had been a simple suggestion, really. A simple ‘No we don’t have the resources for that’ would have been enough. 

However, Jaron seemingly had something else in mind as he began his berating chastisement.

There was nothing Roden could truly do aside from standing firm in his beliefs, “I will not stand aside as people are massacred, and that is final.”

"Why would we help the Gelynian rebels? Tell me, I’m genuinely interested in your reasoning. We have an alliance with their king, and despite his horrid temper, I really have no intention of throwing away our trade agreement if Lord Periven's men can't win their revolution. We don't have the men to sacrifice." Jaron rubbed his temple.

“We wouldn’t need an entire army,” Roden protested, though he knew he was losing support for his cause, “A small battalion would be more than enough.”

Several regents shifted in their seats about the round table as Jaron’s features darkened, “I suppose I’m intrigued by why Lord Periven would write to you asking for help, but not me. Do you all have to be in here?” 

Roden stiffened his jaw, determined to fight for his losing argument despite the blatant fact that Jaron had a much better point than Roden had prepared for. He couldn't focus with all of the regents' eyes on him, especially his father's. Harlowe was shaking his head. There was nothing Roden hated more than the smallest chance of disappointing his father. 

And he knew he was making a fool of himself.

His argument, once compelling and driving, had fallen to pieces under Jaron’s scrutiny.

"Lord Periven has the men to fight, he lacks leaders," He tried, his palms growing sweaty. 

Half the regents had stopped listening. They were all eyeing the door. 

"We could send a few other captains without broadcasting it to the other kingdoms around us. If Periven's forces win, we could gain a better trade agreement. He also didn't declare war on us like King Edward did."

The windows seemed to magnify the afternoon heat of the sun, ironic considering how late in the year it was. 

“King Edward is always finding fights to pick. Carthya is lucky Edward had instead chosen to attack Avenia in its weakened state. He's gained the port city of Isel, who’s to say that he’s not going to come for Carthya next?” Lord Marke, a regent from Carthya’s northern border, pointed out.

For a moment, Jaron looked like he was considering sending aid to Lord Periven.

“There is a rumor that Edward is negotiating an alliance with some of the most powerful families in Mendenwal to further their attack,” Roden muttered.

“We can’t start a war because of rumors.”

Hearing his father utter those few words stung deeply. Harlowe had a frown etched onto his face. 

“But we know facts. We know that an entire regiment slaughtered an entire village of Gelynians on Edward’s orders. Near fifteen thousand souls are dead because we hesitate!”

Frustration had begun to crash through Roden’s veins.

“Those numbers could have been blown out of proportion.” Jaron had rushed back into the argument.

“One life lost is too many!” 

“So you should know better than to risk our citizens!”

Silence fell over the room.

“What if we sent over a few,” Olga Andorse, another regent, began. “Expendables?”

“You consider some of our people to be expend-”

A few regents had begun to nod, prompting Olga to continue, “Despite what you think Captain, there are many of those who don’t necessarily live good lives. You of all people should know that. They’d serve purpose. I believe you’d like this solution, it does support your notions.”

"Or you can do what your king tells you to and not send anyone at all. What a strange thought," Jaron interjected fiercely. "This meeting has gone nowhere but in circles. It's decided, we will not send aid to Lord Periven's forces until we are given proof that their cause is just, and not some peasant revolt."

“Yes, your highness,” Roden grumbled, rubbing the scar above his lip. 

“Oh no, not you. I’m not done. Harlowe, you stay also. Marke, you too. And you, Tobias, don’t pretend like I can’t see you trying to get away.”

Harlowe remained seated, while Marke took to standing by a tapestry covered wall. Tobias, who’d obviously had plans to see his wife and two children- Silas and Edith- audibly complained as he returned to the room. It took several minutes for the other regents to awkwardly shuffle out. 

“Remind me to get rid of half of those,” Jaron continued rubbing his temples. “By the saints it’s easier to argue with my son than with some of these-”

Tobias cut Jaron off before he could swear. He crossed his arms, “Are we getting a special lecture or is this about something else? Where’s Mott gone to? He’s been gone several d-”

“I can lecture you if you’d like, where should I start?”

“Jaron,” Harlowe said, his hands clasped on the table. 

“Right, sorry, caught in the moment. Feel free to take a seat, gentlemen, I’m sorry to say that Mott can’t meet with us at this time. He’s surveying the state of Isel. He’ll be back early tonight.”

Roden gawked, “What?”

“You’ll catch flies looking like that, my friend,” Jaron’s expression was unreadable. “I can’t go trumpeting to the regents about Mott’s quiet, um, unrelaxing getaway.”

“You could’ve told me,” Roden muttered, though he had a good guess as to why Jaron had kept Mott’s surveillance task under wraps.

And it most certainly had to do with a certain fox haired duchess from Mendenwal. A sophisticated woman who’d been betrothed to Roden some three weeks ago. 

“To continue, King Edward is growing greatly offended because of your views. You did stay at his court for a long while several years ago.”

“Avenia isn’t Gelyn.”

“I can’t just have you waltz into battle.”

“And then you would’ve gotten into trouble with your lady,” Tobias pointed out. “After all, you know she’s from a strong line of anti-Carthyans.”

The union was intended to put feelings of unrest to sleep.

“That’s beside the point.”

“Is it though?”

“Shut up Roden.”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Are we acting like children now?” Jaron arched an eyebrow.

Marke took the liberty of clearing his throat, “Do forgive me for intruding on your friendly arguments.”

“You’ll have to forgive us,” and with a wave of his hand, Jaron pushed aside their childish banter.  
“I prefer to go about things with humor, especially in the face of extreme danger. I asked you to stay for one specific reason.”

No one uttered a word as they waited for Jaron to continue.

“You are all aware of our current rise in immigrants? Specifically Gelynians and Avenians. They bring many different things, and while some are good, there are other things that aren’t.”

“Such as?” Roden asked, though he already knew what Jaron was going to say. Something about religion or a hatred for the Carthyan monarchy.

The room had gone quiet again.

“Paganism, for one,” Jaron said, “Stories of fear. A surge in criminal activity in the poorer section of Drylliad. I don’t like to jump to action because of rumors, but there is word that someone plans to kill my son.”

Kill Arran, the crown prince? A child who hadn’t even seen his second birthday? What made the matter uneasy was the fact that there was someone out there who’d likely thought of murdering Jaron’s only child.

And as for the criminal activity, that was true. Roden had seen more atrocities in the past three years than he’d wanted to. People stealing corpses, people murdering children, people practicing their dark beliefs. He’d tried his best to intervene. 

“And a series of stories claiming that King Edward has sent his best assassins to murder me.”

“We’d be able to put a stop to that,” Marke insisted. “There’s security within the castle walls.”

“Something tells me that these assassins won’t hesitate to kill as many as possible to get to Jaron and his family,” Roden’s words were ash on his tongue.

It would be simple. Poison the wells within the castle walls and nearly everyone would be dead within a few days. 

“Which means, unfortunately, that we will need to close the gates to the public, doesn’t it?” 

Tobias shook his head. “There’s such a difference between social classes, do we want to encourage that further by separating those outside the walls?”

“It would only be temporary,” Jaron glanced out one of the windows, “I trust that Roden would be able to root out the suspects before too long.”

“I won’t murder anyone in cold blood,” Roden frowned.

“And yet you jump at the thought of going to war again.”

He hung his head. 

“Do what you can,” Jaron set a hand on Roden’s shoulder. “I trust you.”

A small spark of hope dared light itself within Roden’s heart. Growing up as a street rat had forced him to squash out any form of sympathy. But he’d earned power, he’d earned the ability to put a stop to the mercilessness in the slums of Drylliad. His stone heart had cracked in two. 

He had to try to save everyone. No matter the cost.

“Are you agreeing to assisting the Gelynian rebels?” Roden ventured.

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“If you say so, grandmother,” Tobias cracked a grin. 

That wasn’t technically a ‘no.'

“To continue with our discussions about Gelyn,” Jaron ignored Tobias. “If you receive any more letters from Lord Periven, Roden, I want you to tell me.”

“I haven’t got a clue as to why they appear in my quarters and not yours.”

“Perhaps the Gelynians trust you more, considering your journeys into the slums,” Marke scratched his chin. 

“There’s just too much that we don’t know,” Roden glanced at his father, who seemed to be deep in thought. “Are we doubling the guard because of tonight’s festivities?”

“It’s just a harvest celebration, nothing too horrid can come of it except for too many drinks.”

“Speaking of harvest festivities, there are herbs I need to get before the prices are raised tomorrow morning,” Tobias slowly inched towards the door. “You know, because everyone gets so terrified of spirits.”

“I’ve got to head into the city, I can get you what you need.”

“That would be wonderful,” Tobias continued to inch backwards. “I’m going to need a packet of charcoal and several containers of poppy seed.”

“You’re all itching to leave,” Jaron gestured to the door. “You may go, I’m eager to see Imogen. Stay out of trouble, Tobias.”

“Ah yes, because Tobias is always getting into trouble,” Roden let a small smile grace his lips.

“He truly is the wildest of us three, now leave me be, there are important matters I have to discuss with my prime regent, and Lord Marke.”

Roden didn’t need to be told twice. 

Somebody was waiting for him, that much he knew. As soon as the corridor emptied, Roden bolted down the hall and up his stairs, scarcely grabbing his cloak before he was hurtling out of the castle.

He could see her scarlet hair long before he reached her.

The light haloed her hair as she stood facing one of the castle’s many fountains. Viola Statos was renowned for her beauty, even more so than her title as a duchess. 

Her eyes were a piercing shade of copper, and her hair as vibrant as fire. He'd taken a liking to the nervous way her eyes flicked about, always prepared for any kind of scenario. Viola took great care in hiding the faint shadows beneath her metal colored eyes, she valued her work over her sleep. Roden took Viola's perfect hand, and pressed a kiss to her skin.

"My lady," Roden said with a grin, bowing deeply as Viola gracefully pivoted and dipped her head.

"Captain," Viola flashed a painted smile as she fluidly slipped her hand out of Roden's grip, "I see you've managed to find me once again."

It seemed each time he saw her, he was taken aback by her beauty. 

“I’d do anything to see you.”

“You like to say that, don’t you? But would you stick to this promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I could say the same about you,” Roden beamed, leaning in to kiss Viola’s neck.

“Must you always be this way? It’s degrading,” Viola complained, pushing Roden away. “You promised me you’d keep your affections saved for your...”

“Bed? I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, remember my requests next time you think to be spontaneous.”

Roden held out his elbow to her, “Can I accompany you?”

“I don’t know, can you?” She laced her arm through his.

In silence, they passed through Drylliad’s gates. Several servants stopped to gawk, though many of them were quick to whisper amongst themselves.  
Most of the castle staff had yet to decide if they liked her or not.  
The farther they wandered into town, the friendlier the people became. 

Many of those he passed waved at him. Several women called him by name, most of whom were likely to be veterans of the battle for Drylliad. He always waved back despite his frozen solid hands. Viola scowled.

“Captain Harlowe!” Exclaimed a woman outside of a tavern. “How are you?”

Viola groaned.

“Is that who I think it is?” Roden snickered, stopping in his tracks. “The fiercest woman in all of Drylliad?”

“The fiercest? Why, I appreciate the title,” snickered the woman, a veteran of the Battle for  
Drylliad. Without Dawn and her determination, Drylliad likely would’ve fallen.

“I haven’t the time for this,” Viola snipped.

“Then continue on without me,” he shot back, careful to keep his voice quiet. 

That obviously wasn’t the answer Viola wanted. She huffed, and drew into herself. She uttered no words of farewell as she sashayed away.

“You’ll have to forgive her,” Roden said as he approached Dawn, “She’s got an urgent errand to tend to.”

“Her business is her business,” Dawn shrugged, “Care for a pint?”

“I tend to, um, make embarrassing choices when I drink. I’ll have to say no.”

“Then what about something warm? It’s far too cold out here. It will only take a second, we  
Carthyans owe you everything.”

Unable to say no, Roden nodded, and followed Dawn into the tavern. Inside, numerous other  
people greeted him. 

She handed him two steaming tankards of something, claiming it was on the house. Shyly, her daughter waved at Roden from behind the counter. He muttered thanks, regretting that he couldn't stay longer. The people of Drylliad had always welcomed him with warm enthusiasm. 

The people trusted Roden, he'd helped lead them to victory. 

“You take care Captain Harlowe,” said Dawn, “You hear me?”

“I will Dawn, I will,” Roden chuckled, saluting her as best he could with his hands full of cider tankards. Unable to drink two on his own, Roden offered his extra tankard to a raggedy old man sitting on the streets the moment he left the tavern. 

More and more beggars were turning up in the streets of Drylliad, most of whom were refugees from Avenia and Gelyn. Edward’s invasions were to blame for so many lost homes. So many more lost lives. The bloodshed from six years ago hadn’t been enough apparently. Roden often wondered what would have happened if Gelyn’s armies had been mowed down like the Mendenwal army had. 

They too would have been brought to their knees as all other countries in the realm would have. Invasion would have been out of the question.

Despite Jaron’s promises that there would be no Carthyan aid to the rebels, Roden had drafted a plan he thought to be quite clever. All he had to do was train Periven Baillie’s clansmen, and Edward would be faced with civil war too large to ignore. It would force him into stopping the invasions. 

His strategies often came in handy when he wandered the markets of Drylliad. Avoid the center. Stick to the sides. The center of the market was always the busiest, though it was now filled to the brim with everyone trying to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

Loaves of pumpkin bread were to be purchased, new blankets, as well as bottles upon bottles of spiced cordials. Normally the harvest festivals weren't held in much regard, but tonight's occasion was beyond special. For the first time in a very long time, stars were supposed to leave their positions and fly across the sky. 

Roden would never admit out loud that he was excited for the night of riding stars.

Pushing through a bustling crowd was a talent that came with years and years of practice. Roden didn't make eye contact with anyone as he continued walking through the market square. He set his jaw, so nobody bothered to speak to him. There were some hidden perks to towering over everyone and appearing to be extremely intimidating.

After many shoves, Roden managed to burst into a small alley. The shops all varied in their goods. Some sold animal furs, others sold fabrics. Though there was one thing they all had in common.

Each shop was owned by an Avenian.

There was one shop in particular that Roden had his eye set on. It was tucked away in a safe corner with a small corral beside it, housing fat pig covered in fresh mud. 

He opened the door to the shop, a tiny brass bell signaled his entrance. An old woman groaned- Rose didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

“If ye’ve got any strays for me, keep ‘em. I’m too busy tonight,” Rose croaked.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Roden said politely, offering a sly half smile.

“Don’t ye try to charm me, boy. I see right through ye.”

“Humor me for a moment?”

“Haven’t seen your vixen.”

At the moment, it seemed that Viola wasn't there. She’d likely ran into some of her friends from court. Rose was sweeping away at the dust collecting on her floors, several strands of roots spilling from the pockets of her plain apron.

Rose waved her hand at her, and shoved the broom in his general direction. "Ye been stood up, best get to making yerself useful. I've got other things ta be worryin' about. Set yer tankard here, no drinkin’ while workin’."

"Penny for your thoughts, darling?" As Roden had been told, he set the tankard on the counter. The broom was in its usual place. Sweeping was his designated chore whenever he dropped by Rose’s shop for supplies either he or Tobias needed. 

He began sweeping the floor with a contained fury, dust flew everywhere much like a vengeful blizzard. Rose hated the way he swept, though usually she allowed Roden to continue with his terrible sweeping habit, but not today. Moodily, Rose snatched the broom from his hands, and began sweeping her own way.

Rose only shrugged, "Ye been nice ta me, I'll miss ye when ye stop coming ta visit."

Being referred to as 'nice' happened once in a blue moon. 

Roden finally stopped standing aimlessly in the small shop. He took a seat atop a barrel of something likely to be disturbing. He could at least stay out of the way as Rose continued with her quest to sweep away any speck of dirt from her floors, "I'll visit you, I promise."

"Ye only come for your vixen," Rose shook her head, sweeping still. "Don't let yer head wind up in tangles, promise me that."

Roden mustered a smirk, rubbing his sweaty palms on his dark trousers, "I promise I'll keep my head on straight. Why don’t you like her?”

“I never said I didn’t like her, I’m warning ye ta keep yer head on straight.”

“So says most of my family and friends.”

“They look out for you ‘cause they care for you.”

Because they cared for him. Roden frowned. Sometimes that was harder to believe than other people knew.

The bell jingled again. To his excitement, Viola slipped into the shop much like a shadow. 

“I beat you to the shop for once,” he grinned.

“So you did, would you like my congratulations? I have no reward to offer to you for your victory."

“There is one thing you could give.”

“We’re not doing this in a shop.”

Amidst the background, Rose grumbled something about 'young love' and 'bad omens.' The superstitions Rose held near to her heart never went unmentioned. She took her broom, announcing that she had to count the various bundles of herbs she kept in the back. The floor creaked as Rose stomped into the back room of her shop. Viola stared at her until she was gone.

"How much do you love me? I need to know if I can trust you," Viola hissed, she moved as if to touch the scar above Roden’s lip.

He was much too beguiled to be his normally skeptical self. 

The bright candlelight of the medicine shop reflected off of the gemstones in Viola's expensive dress. She shied away as he moved to touch her shoulder. Viola was very particular about physical touch, where Roden was not. But nonetheless, he respected her.

"You're a part of me, Viola. I can't bear the thought of being without you, I would do anything for-"

She waved him off, "You truly would? You'd do anything for me?"

His lust for Viola Statos had already begun to blind him. That much he knew. It was just as Rose had warned only moments before. A small voice in the back of his head warned him, Roden was treading dangerous ground. 

Roden blocked out the thought of being careful around Viola. She'd told him she liked a man who took risks.

"I have but a few things to ask of you, my love," She smiled, strategically placing a hand upon Roden's face.

Ever so slightly he turned his head, his lips pressing into the soft skin of her palm. After the war, the thought of anyone laying a hand on him had often times made him sick to his stomach, but as the years past, he'd grown to crave it. 

Roden had long since decided he'd do anything just for another simple touch. He waited for her to go on.

Viola stepped closer, Roden could see the black sticky mixture she put on her eyelashes to make them appear longer, "It's always been a dream of mine to be reunited with my family. Is there any way you could somehow manage to get them through Half-Moon pass? Gelynian rebels have them held under siege, I fear they may not live long."

It had taken several weeks of courting her to discover the mysterious background her family came from. Viola's family consisted of two brothers, she, and her father. 

She rarely ever talked about her family. Much of what Roden had learned came from rumors. 

Noble ladies loved to gossip.

The most prominent rumor was that Viola had been born from wedlock, and she had poisoned her father’s wife. Roden chose to ignore what was said about Viola.

Not a shred of hesitation lingered in his mind as he agreed to assist her, "I promise I will do my best to help them."

"And this is why I adore you," Viola smiled, removing her hand from the curve of his face. She stepped back, "Will you see me tonight? Privately? I would stay longer, but unfortunately there are things I must discuss with a few regents."

And without waiting for an answer, Viola slipped out of Rose's shop.

* * *

A wreath of blackberry branches already perched above the entrance into the castle kitchens. Branches wouldn’t do anything to ward off a ghost attack. 

Superstitions were starting to grow on his nerves. 

Roden had returned to the castle early, he wished he hadn't. Anxious servants skittered about with various tasks to complete. The halls had been dressed in sheets of gold. 

As he saw the preparation that went into the decor for the regents at court, he was grateful he'd chosen instead to spend the evening with those closest to him. Often he had to dodge tiny maids carrying pumpkins as big as they.

"Harlowe!" Called out an accented voice. Roden spun on his heels, still getting used to the last name despite having had it for several years.

Roden grinned, calling out in greeting, "Bailiff!"

“You look like one of those ladies with their faces painted in that powder that’s become so trendy. Sort of like my sister.”

“Do I dare take that as a compliment?”

Will shrugged, “That’s up to you to decide.”

“Need help with that?”

“You’re not my mum.”

“I’d be alarmed if I was.”

"Seems to me that you might need a drink," Will lugged a bright orange pumpkin in his arms. He was difficult to understand at times, his words were always strung together and slathered in his Gelynian accent.

“I’m trying to avoid drinking. I tend to do stupid things before too long.” 

Will said something so quickly, Roden didn’t understand him. No wonder he managed to get away with saying rude words in the castle. "Is your lady troubling you?"

Roden held out his hands to take the pumpkin from Will, in turn Will took another large gourd from a passing maid, who scurried off to do something else. He led the way to the grand hall, listening as Roden claimed Viola was not the source of his problems. He was just fine.

“I dunno why everyone asks about her,” Roden muttered, “She’s made me a better person.”

Innocently, Will shrugged, “Only because she bullies you. And me. Mendenwalis hate Gelynians.”

“Viola doesn’t bully me! How pathetic is that? Captain Harlowe, the hardened commander of Carthya’s armies, bullied by his wife? Mendenwalis don’t hate Gelynians.”

“It’s true, both statements, that’s why everyone brings her up.”

"Have you got plans this evening?" Roden asked, changing the subject as he carefully setting his pumpkin near a carefully placed cornucopia. Everything about the marble grand hall had changed into warm autumn decorations.

Willie shook his head, wiping his hands on his breeches despite their cleanliness, "Sort of. My sisters and I will likely be waiting hand and foot this evening. And if not, we’ll be out at the bonfire with our kin. Why?"

It had taken several conversations for Roden to realize that the other Gelynians at the castle weren’t actually Will’s family.

Roden shrugged as he took in the grand hall. Will was already fleeing, obviously busy with making the hall as perfect as he could. 

"I won't be with the court tonight, I was wondering if you would spend the evening with my family. You could bring your sisters, if you’d like, though I've never met them."

"Generous offer," Will nodded. A large and cheaply dressed woman stopped him, gave him a heavy garland of yellowing leaves, and ordered him to take it upstairs to the queen's lounge. 

Roden followed. "Perhaps I'll come, not telling what'll happen, I'll ask my sisters, they'll say yes of course. My younger sister's sweet on you, all girls are sweet on you. How do you do it?"

“Well, uh-”

Will chuckled, “I don’t genuinely care, friend.”

Roden opened his mouth to protest. Will changed the subject, "Rumor has it that you support helping the Gelynian insurgents."

"I do, I'm sorry I never asked if you did too."

"My da's fighting against the king, so yes," Willie nearly tripped on the steps up to the queen's lounge. "Yes, I think helping Gelyn is in Carthya's best interests."

In all the years that Roden had known Will, he’d never once asked him about his parents, and Will never talked about it either.

They fell into silence as they neared the lounge. The servants grew fewer in number as they neared the queen’s quarters. The walls grew less gaudy. 

Queen Imogen had decided she didn't want to expose Arran to the heavy drinking of court festivals, and had invited Amarinda and her two children to join her. Of course, Amarinda had been ecstatic at the idea.

Roden would be joining them in the lounge after Nila, his niece, would leave with her governess. Hopefully Willie would be joining. Viola likely would avoid the lounge and stay with the court, she didn't like being around children for very long.

Shouldering his pumpkin, Roden pushed the large door open to the queen's lounge- after they'd soldiered up several more flights of stairs. He walked into the room after Will. A few maids carefully picked at the decorations in the room, Arran and Silas played in the corner with a wooden spoon.

It was quiet and perfect and cozy. 

Will took the leaf garland to a maid with her head covered in a white cap. Together they began to arrange the leaves, and Imogen glided from across the room to assist them. Her bond with the castle staff was unlike anything seen before. The maid mumbled something. Imogen turned her head, finally catching a glimpse of Roden. She smiled and waved him over to help with the garland.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he said. 

"Could you and Will please hang this from the top of the window, please?" Imogen asked, her tea brown eyes warm as ever.

"Glad my services as a giant may be put to good use," Roden teased. Taking one side of the garland, he and Will managed to get it slung into place.

They shifted the garland left, and then to the right. Imogen ruffled the leaves within her reach, asking for Roden and Will to do the same. Without any orders, Roden surveyed the room, and caught a glimpse of what had to be Will’s little sister.

She sat on the floor with a cap on her head, peering up at her brother. Unlike Will, the small girl seemed quiet and reserved. She was young, and fairly skinny. Roden thought that if he coughed hard enough, she would blow away. More than once, Arran toddled towards her to whack her with his wooden spoon.

“Roden,” Will gestured to his sister. “This is my littlest sister.”

“It’s good to meet you, My name’s Lus-” her sentence ended abruptly when she sneezed.

“She’s got a long Gelynian name, everyone calls her Lucy.”

“Does he starve you?” Roden teased, nodding toward Will.

Lucy cracked a tiny smile, “Oh no, everything’s- everything’s very nice here. But my sister starves me. She gets the best pastries and never gives any to us.”

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yes, our sister’s a little sweet on the baker’s boy, she gets more and keeps from us,” Will had joined in on the teasing. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not serious,” Lucy laughed, tucking her feet underneath her. “My sister shares with us, she’s nicer than she sounds.”

“Never hesitate to ask for help if you find your family neglecting you.”

“Me? Neglect this tiny girl? I couldn’t bring myself to it. She’s far too fragile to be alone,” Will, despite his words, gave Lucy a generous push.

"I do hate to interrupt, but captain, a word if you can spare the time," Imogen said softly, she'd crept up behind Roden. 

Several more maids shuffled in, Roden recognized a few as some of the companions Viola liked to take with her as she explored the castle. Their chatter filled up the rather small room.

He didn't need to be asked twice. Imogen made a show of inspecting a large vase spilling over with leaves and gourds. Dutifully, Roden clasped his hands behind his back, awaiting Imogen's seemingly urgent message. Arran caught sight of his mother and began to waddle towards her. Instead, he was swept up into Lucy's bird bone arms.

Imogen peered over her shoulder for a watchful moment, "I know you've appealed to the regents to help Gelyn with their revolution-"

Roden protested instantly. Many people within the court disagreed with Roden's support for the Gelynian insurgents, after all, he'd fought Gelynian's armies during the siege of Halfmoon Pass.  
Then again, the court often called him barbaric due to his voluntary visits to Drylliad’s slums.

His support for the rebels was ironic, considering that those warriors had killed many of his fellow soldiers. Roden justified his desire to help by declaring that he was fighting against Gelyn's king, who had been the one to call for an attack, not the Gelynian people. Disposing of King Edward would bring about a change in Gelyn. 

Quietly, Imogen held up a hand to silence him.

"I think it is risky," Imogen began to wring her hands, her eyes wandering to her darling little boy, "But I support your notion to an extent. If you can't get support of the regents, I will use everything in my power to dispatch a company of men to assist, so long as no one finds out. But..."

"But what?" Roden asked, fully engaged in the concept of traveling to the north. A sick part of him craved battle. Rarely ever did that desire fade away. It haunted him on dark nights especially, he never permitted himself a moment’s rest from shoving away the frightening emotions he felt. 

"There are things that must be taken care of here in Drylliad before we can go off to battle again. It's nearly the Blood Moon, and you know just how high crime grows during this time, you're also getting married," She began to clench the rich fabric of her simple gown. 

“That won’t affect anything.”

"Leaving for Gelyn will take time, you must put as much thought into your actions as possible."

"I always put thought into my actions."

Imogen lithely turned away from the vase, holding her arms out as she approached Lucy. The young maid was struggling to contain the mischievous prince. 

"Hello Arran!" Imogen exclaimed, signalling that her conversation with Roden was finished. “Thank you Lucy, he’s very fond of you.”

To the best of his ability, Roden had avoided entertaining any thoughts about what was going on in the cover of the Blood Woods to the north of Drylliad. There had always been ghost stories about the pagans within having animal heads and eating babies in a stew, but he'd never believed it. Any fear of the dark unknown had left Roden when he was a young boy.

Roden pushed aside thoughts of unholy acts, and pushed his way into the crowd of decorating maids, helping where he could. He would do all in his power to keep the castle safe, no matter what the cost amounted to.


End file.
